


No More, Confessions of a Warrior - prelude

by JMRook



Series: No More, Confessions of a Warrior [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:24:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMRook/pseuds/JMRook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Untold stories of a Time-war which was much much longer than even the records of The Shadow Proclamation show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More, Confessions of a Warrior - prelude

The time had come, Dalek and Timelord alike had reached the tipping point. No one knew who was the aggressor and who the defender any more. The Universe was burning.

He'd never been a religious man, never attended any of the massive temples that dotted the landscape of his home, most of which lay in ruins now. This place, however, was perhaps the only one he could in some way accept as 'holy'. The Church of the Papal Mainframe, had been founded countless centuries ago when one insignificant planet's computer core gained not only awareness but pan-sentience. It was for all practical reasons the closest thing to a god he could acknowledge. So now he stood before the Mother Superious, Tasha Lem, and her attendants.. naked.

It was she who spoke first, "Welcome and thank you for respecting our tradition's Doc-"

He interrupted, a touch perhaps more bluntly than intended, "No.. no please don't call me that. The nudity is damned inconvenient enough without the the exposure that name brings me.."

A chuckle from Tasha, "As you wish, sir.. So, what can we humble servants of the Papal Mainframe do for you?"

"I've come," He paused, as if searching for the right word, a sigh indicating that he had none other than that which Tradition dictated. "To confess."

"Understand, sir, that confession and absolution are not the same thing, we have the power to clear you of the emotion, but never of the consequences of actions of the past."

"That I understand perfectly, but what lies ahead... I must have that clarity for."

"Very well." She waved an attendant to lead him. "You will follow Drena, to a confessional. There you will come face to face with a Confessor. You will want to look away, do not. You will want to speak to it, again do not. Say only that which burns you greatest in your hearts."

He raised an eyebrow, "How will I know when it's over?"

"You will have nothing left to say..."

He gave he a slight bow, awkward being naked, but respectful none the less and turned following the one named Drena down the many corridors. Black marble and exposed glowing exo-tonic printed panels marked only by the occasional red velvet curtain on either side made the corridors seem to blend into one long continuous rather than the maze of turns it actually was. Drena stopped before one such curtain and addressed him. 

"The Confessor is inside, food and water will be brought to you at regular intervals, proceed within and speak when you face it."

He gave her a slightly confused look. "food and what?"

A thin half smile traced with lines of sadness crossed her face as she looked into his own worn features. "Man with no name to give, you are going to be here a very long time."

"I see, yes I suppose.. that would be the case."

He parted the curtain and stepped into the darkness, letting it close behind him... as his eyes adjusted he became aware of an odd clicking sound and a pale mouth-less face looking back at him, The Confessor. Tasha Lem's words came back in his mind.

"Right ... very well then."

He cleared his throat and began.

"I've said it wasn't my war. That was a lie. It's always been my war, I just didn't know it."


End file.
